


We Can Make The World Stop

by blackskimasksong (elunore)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elunore/pseuds/blackskimasksong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a tattoo artist in Ikebukuro. You enjoy your life. It's quiet, but you get to make art and what more could you ask for in life. When you get pulled into a city-wide war suddenly art doesn't seem to be the only important thing to you anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

You were content with your job. It wasn’t really glamorous in any capacity, but it paid the bills (most of the time) and it let you do what you loved. Your passion was art, you adored the smell of paint, the colors staining your skin, the way a good piece could just make you feel like it changed you.

But there was a reason that the term “starving artist” existed. As much as people liked art, no one wanted to pay for it. You couldn’t sell your paintings on canvas, so you sold it on skin. Even if there was never a market for traditional art, people always wanted tattoos even in a place like Japan where tattoos were mostly associated with crime even after they were becoming popular with younger law-abiding crowds. But still people would stare at you on the few days when you went out with bare arms or legs. You knew it wasn’t common, but come on, these people had to have seen someone else with ink at least on TV.

You sighed and shrugged your bag closer to your body. You were commuting in the early summer morning and you had prepared for the days heat with shorts and a loose, light hoodie. Your legs were heavily covered in ink and the lingering stares from your train-mates made you uncomfortable.

Before you practically vibrated out of your skin from the awkwardness of eyes on your legs, you escaped the train onto the crowded platform at the Ikebukuro West Gate Park station. It was a nice area, which made it a good place to operate a shop that didn’t attract quite as much of the criminal element. It was really annoying dealing with police raids when you were in the middle of line work or trying to move clients through.

You stepped into the shop and heard your boss talking to someone to someone underneath the bright jingling of the bells that signaled your arrival. You paced to the back of the shop and found your boss, cleaning machines, talking to a guy who had a scar crossing over one eye. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. He looked like he had seen sadness you couldn’t comprehend. You couldn’t help but stare at his remaining eye, partially hidden behind shades. It was almost as shocking to you as his red hair or maybe the gold chain around his neck and cane that made him look like a yakuza from some bad manga.

“Ah, who’s this?” The man asked your boss Shokai, leaning on his cane in your direction. Could he be more cliché?

“This is my newest prodigy,” Shokai said, “She’s got a real steady hand.”

“Good quality for a tattooist to have,” The man chuckled, “Think over my offer, Shokai?” The man clapped your boss on the shoulder and then passed by you limping, “Have a nice day, Prodigy-kun.”

You waited until you heard the bells that announced his exit and then asked Shokai, “Who was that?”

“An old friend, don’t mess around with him and he won’t mess with you.”

You accepted that, Shokai wasn’t always on the right side of the law, but neither were you. If he had someone from his past he didn’t want to talk about you didn’t feel like you could fault him for that, especially after all he’d done for you.

So you tried to push the man with red hair and a scar from your mind and set about getting your workstation tidied up. Wiping down the chair and your machinery, pushing your sketches into a somewhat neat pile, setting out the ink for your first appointment. Even if you were an untidy person at home, it was important to be neat and clean as a tattooist.

After that the shop became busy, all sorts of gruff men wandering in and out, talking to their buddies under the needle, getting tattooed themselves, waiting to get a consultation. The usual customers in your shop probably weren’t the most law abiding citizens themselves either. It didn’t matter to you either way, you were just there to decorate them, not to judge.

By the end of the day your eyes felt strained and your hands were cramping up. A good day’s work in your book. It was late by the time you had finished cleaning and bid Shokai good night. You wandered through Ikebukuro West Gate Park, most of the people still out looked like they were middle or high school aged. Didn’t kids have curfews anymore? Now that you were looking at them, they were wearing a lot of yellow. Yellow bandannas tied around necks and arms and legs, yellow hoodies, yellow bags. The same shade of mustard catching your eye no matter what direction you turned.

The yellow was beautiful against the dark night that clouded over everything else and you felt something overcome you, you found a clear spot to sit on a bench and pulled out your sketchbook and a pencil, drawing sketchy dark forms against the paper except bright flashes of white paper where you’d fill in with the perfect shade of saffron yellow when you got back to your apartment. You even had the perfect marker in mind, when suddenly someone stopped over you, obstructing the dim light that was being thrown off by the streetlamps.

You glanced up and saw him, the man from the shop this morning. Still in his red suit with his cane, he gestured at the paper beneath your hands, “You really do have talent Prodigy-kun.”

“Ah, thank you… Uh, I don’t know your name,” You set your pencil down onto your book. This man demanded your attention, it would be disrespectful to work in his presence.

“You can just call me Akabayashi. Say, where’d you learn to draw like that Prodigy-kun?”

“Just lots of practice, Akabayashi-san,” Why was this man speaking to you? Shokai had warned you to steer clear of him, but just chatting like this was probably fine.

Akabayashi’s mouth split into a grin, “You’re really humble for a prodigy, kid.”

“I’m not a prodigy.”

“I think it fits you though, learn to take a compliment,” he said.

“Hey, Akabayashi-san. What were you talking to Shokai about this morning?”

He looked surprised that you had asked that, “I’ve known Shokai for ages, I always go to him when someone I respect is looking for work done.”

“So, you’re looking for a tattoo?”

Akabayashi nodded, “Well, not me actually, but a colleague. I can’t deal with needles much myself, I had enough pain to last me a lifetime when my eye got messed up.”

Again you began to wonder how he did lose his eye. That wasn’t the sort of thing you could just ask someone about on the first day you knew them though.

“But you see,” Akabayashi continued, “Shokai really doesn’t care for the criminal element, especially where I’m concerned.”

“But I thought you guys were friends?” You asked.

“We are, but it’s a complicated relationship. Say, Prodigy, if I got Shokai’s permission, how about you tattoo my friend?”

“Oh I couldn’t, I’m nowhere near Shokai’s level. I wouldn’t trust myself with someone as important as a colleague of yours.” Actually, you didn’t know exactly what Akabayashi did, but it couldn’t be good if even Shokai didn’t want to take a chance with him.

“You sell yourself short Prodigy-kun. I’ll bring my friend by to look at your portfolio tomorrow. Just leave Shokai to me.”

With that Akabayashi turned and began walking away from you. Suddenly the night seemed a lot colder. You started shivering as you packed away your sketchbook, the night didn’t seem as beautiful anymore. The train on the way home was less crowded.

Your apartment was your solitude. Paintings and sketches covered the gray walls since your landlord wouldn’t let you paint directly on them. What a buzzkill. What good was life without color? You tossed your book bag down and wandered over to the balcony, opening the door and stepping out. The main reason you took this apartment as small as it was, over other bigger apartments was the view it had overlooking Ikebukuro and Tokyo as a whole. It made for some beautiful paintings.

Your body still shivered when you thought about Akabayashi’s proposal. You didn’t want to be responsible for something that would be on a mobster’s skin forever.

That night’s sleep was fitful. You’d never had this sort of anxiety about a consultation before. Usually it was just slight nerves you could shake off in minutes. This was all encompassing dread.

By the time you got to the shop that morning you were contemplating just running away to another city and starting a new life, under a new name, away from any yakuza who might want tattoos. But you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

So instead, you opened the door to the shop and let yourself settle into your usual routine. Wipe down your workstation, tidy your desk, nervously start sketching and jump whenever the bell rang to announce a visitor.


	2. Finally Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your consultation begins and your customer is more than you bargained for.

Finally the bell over the door announced the visitor of the day you were dreading most. It’s cheery jangling was completely the opposite of what you felt. Akabayashi strolled in with his cane in hand and a crooked grin on his scarred face. Behind him was a man in a light-weight black jacket with fur trim over a slim fitting tee-shirt. Unlike Akabayashi he had a much more subdued and gentle smile, but what really captivated you were his eyes, they looked like they were crimson or clay colored and framed by ink black lashes. He looked like a model or someone that would be on the cover of a street fashion magazine. You could barely tear your eyes from him back to Akabayashi, until Akabayashi spoke to you.

“Hey Prodigy-kun. Here’s my, ah, colleague. He’s an asshole, but he’s promised to be on his best behavior for his appointment today. Can’t say that’ll help much though,” Akabayashi gave you a knowing grin.

Shokai walked over and stood with a frown on his face in front of Akabayashi blocking him from moving further into the shop, “Akabayashi, I told you I wouldn’t do this.”

Akabayashi waved the man in the black jacket over to you and said, “Go ahead with the consultation, I’ll talk to Shokai,” Akaabyashi’s smile never left his face.

The man in the black jacket wandered over to you. That was the best way to describe his gait. He walked like he knew exactly what was going through your mind as your eyes followed him and like he was familiar with the shop as if he worked there for years. You bristled at seeing someone treat your home like they owned it.

“H-hi, Akabayashi sad you want a tattoo?” You asked the man, trying to sound bright like you did with all of your customers. Maybe you could get this consultation over quickly. Now that the man was right in front of you, you could see he was gorgeous. Sharp features and bright clay red eyes. He could easily be on the front of a street snap magazine as a hot new trendsetter.

“Something like that,” he drawled. His voice was a gentle and soft murmur.

“Do you have any already? Maybe I could see what style you have and build on those?”

“Nope, virgin skin,” The man said, “Tattoos are a bit of a cop out don’t you think? It cements you to something.”

What was he talking about? Wasn’t he here to exactly that? Who comes to a tattoo parlor when they don’t want a tattoo? “Then if you don’t like them why are you getting one?” Your hands were frozen on the sketchpad you had moved to grab.

“I’m not getting one. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” You repeated back to him.

“Yes,” The man gave that gentle smile again.

“I’m working now though. I have appointments and –”

“And now is my appointment, right? Akabayashi-san said you’d speak with me?”

“I said I’d speak to you about a doing a tattoo,” you pushed.

“Ah, I see,” He mused, tapping his chin, “Well, I guess I am looking for a tattoo then, in a manner of speaking if that’s what will get you to speak with me. More specifically, I’m looking for someone who has a tattoo and I wanted to see if you could help me. Even if you could just tell me the artist or something about it that would be a great help,” He said. His gentle smile made you want to help him even though his words and demeanor made you want to run away.

“I don’t- I can’t figure out who someone is just from a tattoo,” Sure you knew a few distinct artist’s from their styles, but you weren’t exactly an encyclopedia of every artist in Tokyo like some of the old guys were.

“You haven’t even looked at the tattoo yet,” He pushed.

You shook your head, your hands shaking slightly on your desk top, “I wouldn’t be the one to ask. You need to ask Shokai or someone else who’s been in the business and has seen a lot of work. I’m just an apprentice.”

He clapped his hands together, “That’s exactly what I want, a pair of fresh eyes.” Before you could stop him from continuing, he pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped at the screen before handing it to you.

The image on the screen was a simple tattoo. In fact it was just one character. You glanced up at the man, was this really what he wanted you to identify? Something this simple could be on anyone and done by anyone with half a brain, two hands, and even just a little practice. And it’s not like tattoo machines were impossible to come by even in a gray legal area like you worked in.

Before you could glance back down at the phone you heard rustling coming from the shop. Akabayashi was strolling across the front of the shop, tapping his cane along the ground, and pulling the blinds shut as he crossed the floor. Shokai was quietly watching.

“S-shokai?” You called out to your boss. You were scared now. This was something out of a bad yakuza movie. Why were you calling him? For reassurance?

“Just talk to him, it’ll be ok kid,” Shokai said, his mouth set in a grim line as he stared down Akabayashi. Shokai’s face was a sharp contrast from Akabayashi’s perpetual smile that at one point had seemed kind and understanding.

Your eyes flicked to the man in the black jacket’s face, he was smiling too, wider now. _Flick._ Your eyes went back to his phone and you started rattling off to them what you saw. You hoped to say something, anything they wanted, to make them leave.

“They used a tattoo machine, the lines are too clean for it to be done by hand with one needle. Whoever did this has practice. They have to be a tattooist, or at least they’ve been doing this a lot.” You couldn’t see what body part the tattoo was on, it was a close up of skin, smooth and alabaster. “It’s kanji? Bundle?”

The man snatched his phone back before you could look more closely, “Thank you, what does Akabayashi call you? Prodigy-kun? I’m sure we’ll be back in touch.” He nodded to Akabayashi and they left the shop, leaving the closed blinds as the only evidence they were already there.

Shokai remained frozen, watching the door Akabayashi and his friend had left through until you walked over to him to try and gain comfort from his presence. “We are so fucked,” was all Shokai said, shaking his head slowly.

That was all Shokai would say about your visitors. Once they left he opened the blinds and wouldn’t say another word unless it was about work: Where was the box of new ink? Had you taken photos of that tattoo for your portfolio yet? You needled him whenever there was a lull in customers, trying to gain any insight into what they wanted and whether your response was good enough.

By the time the day was over your entire body was tense from anger and frustration. This wasn’t how the shop usually ran. You snapped at Shokai as you packed up and left the shop with the door slamming shut behind you.

Who were those men? You knew Akabayashi, but the other man had never even mentioned his name. You sort of suspected Akabayashi was yakuza or at least had a connection to them, but the other man looked like he could be an average university student.

The streets were emptying out slowly as you rushed towards the train station. Nothing caught your eye tonight. Not even the clay red eyes watching you from across East Gate Park as you left the shop.

Those knowing clay eyes followed you down the station steps and into an empty train car, stepping in at the last moment. You had chosen the car specifically because it was empty. You didn’t want to deal with stares from other passengers or whispers behind hands. Not tonight. When your body felt like it was going to explode with tension.

You didn’t realize he was in the car until the doors shut you both in. Your eyes widened and you wanted to turn around and slam your fists into the doors to try and get away from him. He’d made your entire day a living hell.

“Ah, Prodigy-kun! What a coincidence!” He cried with a smile on his face. What was up with him? Did he never stop smiling?

What a liar.

“Really?” You asked. You decided you were going to catch him in his lie. It would serve him right, “Where are you headed then?”

“I’m on my way to my apartment actually,” He said.

“Where do you live?” There was no way a man like him lived near your area.

But to your horror, he rattled off an address and you realized it was just down the street from you. How had you never seen him before? Sure, Tokyo was a big city and you didn’t know _everyone_ in even Ikebukuro, but you still knew a lot of the people in your building and a few of the neighboring buildings at least by sight. You had never seen him. Panic began to flood you. Had you seen him? Was he always there?

He drew you out of your frenzy with a, “I moved there not too long ago. I felt like I needed a change of pace and Ikebukuro could provide it.”

You numbly nodded, “A-ah, I see.”

“It’s a nice neighborhood, you know,” He moved to take a seat and patted the seat next to him, a silent order for you to sit. You followed as he continued, “At least when there aren’t things lurking in the shadows you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” He asked, “Once you know what really happens in this city it’s impossible to go back to a normal life.”

That made you pause. Was your life normal? You supposed it was as normal as could be. You enjoyed your life. It was quiet and content. Money could be tight sometimes, but it wasn’t unmanageable.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” He said, “But my life is good. Is anyone’s life normal? Should I even trust this crazy guy who associates with yakuza? Ah, you look surprised. Did you suspect Akabayashi-san was yakuza? You must’ve. What normal man has a scar like that? And on his face too. Do you want to know how he got it?”

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t want to know this.” You whispered. You wanted to leave. You wanted to run to the door and press the emergency button.

“I want you to make an informed decision. It wouldn’t do to have you ignorant forever. Especially when so much is changing.”

“W-who are you?” The words stuttered out. What was he talking about?

But your words were drowned out by an announcement over the loudspeaker announcing the station and to please remember to check that you had all your belongings before exiting the car. The man stood up, “That’s our cue! We’ll continue this later,” He said with a final look at you.

And before you could say another word to him, he was gone off the train. By the time you stumbled off the train and run onto the platform, he had disappeared.

You walked through the streets to your apartment in a daze. Staring at everyone you passed as if they would pull off a mask to reveal clay red eyes and a wolfish grin. Neither red eyes nor grins appeared and you didn’t know whether or not you were relieved or disappointed. Your apartment was blissfully empty and even the gray walls seemed soothing. Silence settled over you for the first time that day.

Your sleep wasn’t dreamless to your chagrin. You dreamt of the buzzing noise that filled the tattoo shop on a daily basis, of the red hot burn that crawled under your skin with a needle, the ache in your muscles when you held a body part still too long when getting a tattoo.

And flashes of brick red eyes following you, peering out of the dark.

When you woke up your head was aching and your neck was sore. You slowly got ready to go back to the shop, sending up a prayer that you wouldn’t be ambushed on the train again. When you stepped onto the train, you worriedly glanced around but that man wasn’t in the car with you.

At the shop, Shokai wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He seemed terrified of you. He stayed at his workstation and walked away from you whenever you made to move towards him.

After work you left the shop and felt your skin tingling from someone watching you. Your eyes flicked up, around, across the street and found him. The man in the fur lined jacket was leaning against a wall, tapping away on his smartphone. If you didn’t know better you’d have guessed he was waiting for you. You may have even briefly entertained the thought for a moment before coming to your senses.

As if your thoughts had called out to him he looked up at you and waved, slipping his phone into his pocket he sauntered over to you, “Hey there, I was just wondering when that slave driver of a boss would let you go for the night.”

“Shokai’s not that bad,” You muttered.

Your words didn’t seem to matter as he went on, “You know his record isn’t all that squeaky clean either?”

You shook your head. This you really didn’t want to hear. You started walking away from him, clutching the straps of your bag.

“I’m just trying to help you,” He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. You’d think that this display would attract attention, but somehow no one was looking at you. People merely parted around you, like fish in a stream. They had their own lives to worry about after all.

“If you want to help me so much,” You breathed out and finally asked what had been making you toss and turn last night, “What’s your name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are really appreciated<3

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk to me about this my tumblr is tooktoomuchcoughmedicine. Let's talk Shizaya trash together


End file.
